


from the jaws of defeat

by green_piggy



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eirichel Week 2020, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Unreliable Narrator, a mild one and it's at the very end but take care!, and i wanted to explore that a bit lmao, eirika's doing her best, seems to doubt herself and her actions a lot, there's not... much comfort... sorry folks, unreliable narrator tag because l'arachel - for all her projected confidence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy
Summary: Eirika is curious as to why L’Arachel is suddenly insistent on learning the sword. L’Arachel can’t bring herself to answer, not when Eirika already has so many burdens to shoulder.
Relationships: Eirika/L'Arachel (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25
Collections: Eirichel Week





	from the jaws of defeat

**Author's Note:**

> EIRICHEL WEEK 2020 LADS!!! WLW RIGHTS!!!!  
> written for the day 1 prompt 'battle'! i wanted to do something going into depth with l'arachel because her depth gets glossed over A Lot, and she doesn't deserve that. she deserves the universe. also because i love hurting my faves
> 
> i won't have a fic for every day, but i'm aiming to get at least one more fic out for this week! they're so dang good
> 
> i had [a distant promise from echoes](https://youtu.be/81FJA2mxkew) on loop while writing this! put it on if you want some background music, and hope you enjoy! <3

The sword tumbled out of L’Arachel’s burning fingers and clattered against the stone tiles of the training ground floor. Hissing words under her breath that she knew Latona herself would blush at, she kneeled down on shaking knees to retrieve the blade. Every muscle in her body _screamed,_ but she forced herself to carry on.

When she stood up, though, Eirika wasn’t posed in a stance ready to fight. She held her wooden sword loosely at her side, her eyes watching L’Arachel silently. Even without words, though, L’Arachel could read every emotion on Eirika’s face perfectly. Concern and worry being focused on _her_ always made her uncomfortable, made her skin prickle and her heart twist, and those emotions coming from _Eirika_ only made those feelings worse.

“I’m perfectly - fine,” she rasped, hating how she had to take a breath to finish even such a meager sentence. “This is… this is a skill that I must learn. I cannot rely on a tome for everything.”

But Eirika shook her head. “I think we’ve done enough for today,” she said quietly. The _pity_ in her voice struck a nerve that L’Arachel didn’t even know she had possessed.

“Well, _I_ have not.” Her sword trembled in her hand. “I need to—”

“I wasn’t making a suggestion,” came Eirika’s firm voice. “L’Arachel, you cannot learn a weapon in a single day. Especially if you have never touched a blade before.”

“But I _must!”_

“Why the sudden insistence!?” Eirika suddenly cried. She hissed and gritted her teeth, looking away. Her sword rattled in her fist; as soon as L’Arachel caught sight of it, heart lurching, she watched Eirika force her grip to loosen. “I don’t - you’ve been content, until just this morning, to wield magic alone. And using both blade and tome is all but unheard of.”

“Well…” L’Arachel forced herself to draw her sword outwards in a dramatic pose, her hand on her hip. Never mind that she had very little energy at all, that when she closed her eyes, she still saw those disgusting claws scrambling for her throat, that awful hissing and gurgling of poison dripping from fangs. What kind of healer - of _hero_ \- would she be, if she thrust all of her little problems onto any poor soul with two ears? A terrible one, that was what. “It’d be very befitting of me, would it not? For such a peerless warrior as myself, to hold a tome of light in one hand and a sword in another? Beauty _and_ brawn—”

“L’Arachel, _please,”_ Eirika whispered. “Don’t - don’t lie to me. Not _me.”_

Silence.

L’Arachel lowered her sword with a heavy sigh. “...What would you have me say, then?”

“The _truth,”_ Eirika pleaded. “In our battle yesterday, did something go amiss? That’s the only _possible_ thing I can think of, but you didn’t seem any different.”

Of course she hadn’t. L’Arachel had done everything in her power to ensure that Eirika, nor anybody else, would fret, but… it still stung, somewhat. Even if it _was_ only a minor issue, and entirely her own fault, to have not any of the few people she _did_ allow close to her to notice…

“It is nothing to concern yourself with,” L’Arachel murmured. “I assure you.”

“L’Arachel…”

“A monster caught me off-guard.” She bit her lip before any more of her ugly words could come tumbling out. Selfish, selfish, _selfish,_ she chided herself. Eirika had the weight of an entire army on her shoulders, and she was younger than L’Arachel herself. Not by much, but… who was L’Arachel, to further add to that burden Eirika had to carry, while offering no aid whatsoever?

When L’Arachel didn’t speak, Eirika raised her eyebrows. “And..? It didn’t harm you, did it?”

“No! No, it did not.” L’Arachel shook her head furiously. “I assure you. All is well, is it not? You and I and everyone else are still standing! It is nothing worth fretting about.”

“Your well-being is _always_ ‘worth’ being fretted about,” Eirika spat. L’Arachel winced.

“...I did not intend for my words to be taken in such a manner.”

“Well, they were.” Eirika dragged a hand over her face with a heavy sigh. “Forgive me. I haven’t been sleeping well as of late. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Dear Eirika, you needn’t apologise!” L’Arachel swallowed down the lump of guilt in her throat. “But, please, if my lovely self can assist in any capacity, all you need do is ask!”

Eirika gave a weak smile. “...Thank you, L’Arachel. I can say much the same for you.”

“...Ah, well. I am not the one leading an army, am I?” L’Arachel smiled. She hated how brittle it felt, how she knew it would crumble if Eirika pushed on it in the slightest.

Eirika’s own smile dimmed.

“You are not, but…” Eirika gave a small sigh. “One day, you will be able to protect yourself with a blade. But that cannot be done in a single day, or else we would all be swordmasters. And I myself still have much to learn.” Eirika took her clammy hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Until then, _I_ will be your sword. I promise you, L’Arachel, I will allow no harm to come to you.”

“You cannot make such promises,” L’Arachel hissed. She fought the sudden, overwhelming urge to yank her hand away. “Anything can happen on the battlefield. Do not promise me the impossible. And certainly do _not_ put anyone before yourself, especially me. I refuse it.”

Eirika’s teeth came worried her lip, her fingers idly drawing patterns over L’Arachel’s hand. L’Arachel wanted nothing more than to soothe the frown lines on her face, the hesitance in her eyes, but this was not a matter that could be resolved with words alone, and L’Arachel had no energy for actions.

“...To the best of my abilities, then,” Eirika whispered. “Is that satisfactory?”

“It is.” L’Arachel closed her eyes. The sun was beginning to set, its dim light shining through the windows at the exact angle that magnified its blinding intensity. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Eirika. “...But I would like to be alone for a while, if that is acceptable.”

“L’Arachel…”

“I won’t miss dinner, do not fret. I just wish for a while to practice by myself.”

“...Very well.” Eirika’s hand drifted up to her bicep and gave another squeeze. L’Arachel couldn’t bring herself to return it. “But I _will_ bring dinner to you if I don’t see you there. Understood?”

“I understand,” she murmured. “...And thank you, Eirika.”

“You’re welcome.” Eirika made to move her hand away, but stopped at the last second, looking unsure. She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Just… I wish you would open up to me more. I want to help you with whether ails you. I promise you’re not a burden.”

...Well, how was she meant to answer _that?_ Tilting her head away so that Eirika couldn’t see her face, L’Arachel blinked away the wetness that had begun to sting her eyes. “...I know.”

Silence stretched again, thin and hollow, but the tightness in L’Arachel’s throat made it impossible to break. She couldn’t see Eirika’s face, but she did hear the minute sigh that escaped her as she took her hand away.

L’Arachel didn’t glance up, not until Eirika’s footsteps had faded away. The doors to the training room creaked shut. Only then did she stand up to her full height with a deep breath, her chest pounding and her hands shaking.

Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered every sensation of the day before. Of that moment when her final beam of light had missed an approaching Bael. In her hands, her tome crumbled to useless blank pages. She’d had nothing else, not even any staves - she’d given those to Natasha beforehand as she herself had been running low, and L’Arachel had been - well, she had been _certain_ that she had enough light magic to see her through the battle.

She hadn’t.

Baels were devious creatures, swifter and cleverer than they looked. In one blow, it had sent her horse to the ground with a dreadful whine. With the next, it had L’Arachel clamped between its countless legs, its heavy hairy body crushing her legs as it lowered itself near her. She’d been able to see each and every single one of its terrible gleaming eyes, glowing blood red as the poison on its fangs dripped and gathered at the tips. She’d whacked it with her tome, again and again and _again,_ but it had been useless. For not the first time in her life, she had genuinely thought that she was going to die.

L’Arachel still didn’t know what had saved her. Something had stuck the creature and killed it in a single shot. She didn’t know what. An arrow, or a spear, or magic… she hadn’t seen, and nobody had said anything to her. She’d kicked the monster’s corpse off herself and pushed herself onto her knees, struggling not to throw up, terror and numbness somehow both coursing through her veins. Natasha had shown up then, heal staff in hand, and handed one to L’Arachel after healing both her and her horse. And then their battle had continued, as if nothing had happened, as if L’Arachel, the princess and future Divine Emperor of Rausten, hadn’t almost died to a common monster. Perhaps it had been the gods testing her, again and again, but she was beginning to grow tired of their trials.

If she’d had a weapon… if she’d had _anything_ else at all, she wouldn’t have ended up in that situation. Even a broken sword, with its blade snapped in twine, could still _hurt_ a monster. Could still be used to distract it long enough to retreat.

Her breathing was quickening again, her sight starting to blur. L’Arachel twisted the fingers of her fist into the fabric over her chest and forced herself to be _calm._ To make herself take deep breaths in and out, keeping her eyes peeled on the opposite wall, not closing them, until she could bring herself to move again.

She felt even more exhausted than before. Still, she had to continue. Just for a small while longer.

L’Arachel brought up her sword in front of her, exhaled, and then slashed at the nearest training dummy with a cry.

**Author's Note:**

> are you thinking "wow, this author's so cool! i wanna follow them on social media!" [WELL HERE YOU GO FOLKS](https://twitter.com/greenpiggles) rn it's big "crying over xenoblade" hours but Yeah
> 
> if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a kudos and/or comment, and have a wonderful day!! and please take care of yourselves, the world is a funky place right now <3


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